Raini Watson
by Scribe of Spades
Summary: John's adopted daughter, and in a way, Sherlock's too. Cuteness galore :) I thought it would be funny to watch Sherlock react to children and I needed the practice and thus, Raini Watson was created.


Hey! I wrote this story awhile back and just never bothered to post it. It's about Sherlock's and John's daughter, Raini. No mpreg or anything like that. John adopts her, and Sherlock does too, in a way. But yeah, happy family love. Well, not for Sherlock at first but whatever!

Warning, I am a very slow updater. Sorry in advance. I have school and music practice and everything on top of all these other fanfics. I plan on trying to write more again, but that never happens so whatever :)

"The contractor did it. Check his saw blades, one will have the blood traces."

"Amazing," John says, shaking his head. "How did you know without even going to the scene?"

"A master never reveals his secrets." I snap the folder with the evidence compiled from the case shut. "Though, he did make it rather obvious. When dismembering the woman in the bathtub his hand slipped, causing the saw blade to nick the bottom of the tub. The blade made small grooves, approximately three millimeters apart. Identical to the handsaw marks made in the wood in the back room."

"Couldn't someone else have used the saw?"

"Possible but unlikely, the cuts were made by a person who uses their left hand over their right. The contractor is the only person without an alibi that is left handed." John just shakes his head at me. Well, it was obvious, to easy, in fact. I need a challenge.

"Well, fantastic. Can I go home n—" Then something dark-haired and purple runs into the room, the little girl –clad in a purple dress– stops in front of John. A woman comes in after her, obviously trying to catch her.

"I'm so sorry. I let go of her for a second and she ran." She says, out of breathe.

The child reaches up towards John, silently asking to be picked up. John does without hesitation. The girl grabs on the collar of his coat. "Is she your daughter?"

"Oh no. She was at the crime scene. We think she was related to the woman that was killed. Possibly her mother,"

"What's her name?" John says. He attempts to hand her back to the woman, but the girl makes a small sound and holds on tighter.

"We don't know. She won't tell us."

"Check the inside of her shoes. "I say. Parents tend to write information where children can't rub it off.

The woman removes the shoe from the child's right foot." Raini, Raini Jackson. 020-4493-7853."

"Hello Raini, my name's John. Do you want to go with..."

"Mira, Mira Jackson," The woman supplies.

"Do you want to go with Mira?" Raini looks at him, and then shakes her head. "Why not?" Raini just shakes her head again. John turned to Mira, "Where is she going?"

"We couldn't locate any family or friends to take her. She's probably going to an orphanage."

"No one," John says softly.

"That woman didn't have any family. Or friends, no one to take her. "A beeper clicks. Mira pulls it from her pocket and looks at it. "I've got to go for a minute can you watch her?" Then she walks out.

John thinks about what Mira said for a second. I can almost see a stupid idea forming. "Well, I'll adopt her."

"What?" I look at him like he said he wanted to buy an elephant.

"You heard me. I want to adopt her. She doesn't have anyone."

"No."

"Yes."

"You are not adopting a child."

"What are you, my wife? I think I can do whatever I want."

"I don't want a child running around my flat, breaking everything."

"Our flat, and she won't break anything."

"No."

John looks at me, "Come on, Holmes. How can you say no to that face?" He gestures to Raini, who's fallen asleep with her thumb in her mouth. I feel my resolve crumbling to bits.

"Fine," John grins triumphantly at me, "But if she breaks anything, you're paying to have it fixed."

"Cheers."

"Shut up."

After three days of arguing, planning, and filling out forms, Raini Helena Watson was sitting in the back seat of a London cab on my lap. Why she was sitting on me could be anybody's guess. All day she had been sitting near John. Children are quite odd, I've observed.

"I want a cookie." Raini announces to the cab.

"Hey, you talked." Raini nods happily. "Why didn't you talk earlier?"

"I don't wanted to."

"Want." I correct her. She looks up into my face. Her grey eyes unnerve me slightly, though I'll never admit it.

"What's your name?" She asks, her head cocked slightly to the side like a curious puppy.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sher-Sher-Sherly." John smiles but looks away, trying to hide the grin on his face.

"Sherlock," I say shortly, glancing out the window.

"Sherly." She repeats and then giggles, obviously pleased with herself. I see John's shoulders shaking in silent laughter at my expense. Humph.

-

So instead of going to the flat as I had intended, John decides we need to go shopping. "Why is that?" I ask him. "You already got a bed for her. And moved all my things out of the spare room." To which I had already expressed my displeasure about two days ago.

"I think we should paint her room. And decorate it."

"I do not paint. Or decorate, for that matter."

"I can tell." I narrow my eyes at him across the cab. "Just come along. How bad can it be?" My answer is...

"Terrible."

The whole 'shopping trip' (trip to hell and back) started off fine. As fine as it can be with a three-year-old sitting in the paint aisle, unable to choose what color she wants. "Pink or green, Raini," John asks her again, probably for the twentieth time. "It's not that hard of a decision."

"Yes it is." Raini says, deep in thought. John pointed out yesterday how much she acts like me when thinking. I don't see it. "It might not match my bed."

"You can change the bedding." I say over my phone.

"I don't know."

"How about purple?" I say exasperatedly to her.

"Purple?" I pull one of the little cardboard clips and hand it to her. She looks at it.

"Ok. I like this color." She points to a dark purple and hands it to John.

"Thank god."

We end up buying five gallons of the paint. (When they could have painted the room with two,) And return to the flat. The second John opens the door, Raini runs in.

"What's that?"

"My skull," I answer.

"What's that?"

"My laptop," I say.

"What's that?"

"Yellow paint," Can she possibly know any other vocabulary?

"What's that?"

"Raini, why don't you go sit so I can clean up?" John says, breaking off the conversation.

Instead she looks at the evidence for a case I'm working on. I fall on my couch and stretch out, closing my eyes. Then I hear a crash.

"Look at that, she broke something." John says from the kitchen.

Yes, I know, you can't adopt a kid in three days but I don't really care for the sake of being a fangirl.

Lol, fluffy bunnies galore

Can't help myself. EVER.

,Ellie

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